


Pucking Around

by Militem (ava_militem), tess1978



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Hockey AU, M/M, Masturbation, Mistaken Identity, Modern AU, More tags to be added as needed., Naughty Photos, Occasional puns, Sexting, Texting, Unrequieted Blowjobs, rom com, sports AU, workplace relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-04-18 04:53:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14205504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ava_militem/pseuds/Militem, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tess1978/pseuds/tess1978
Summary: After a scandal, cocky young NHL superstar Arthur Maxson gets traded to the Boston Bruins, only to find that he doesn't get along well with Boston's captain, the veteran Marcus Danse.Alone in a new city, he has nobody to talk to... nobody except the anonymous fan he met on an online forum.***Danse is annoyed when he is forced to deal with the talented but unprofessional new player on his team. He vents about it online, and soon finds a friend in the online forum. They bond quickly over bets and hockey... and a mutual attraction.***Arthur and Danse can't stand each other.... but at least they each have someone online they can vent to.





	1. Chapter 1

His first week in town, his first practice with the new team, and he was all alone. 

Arthur Maxson grimaced to himself. He had pretty much hit rock bottom.

Well, not _rock_ bottom. He was still in the NHL. He was still in the starting lineup. But he had been moved from the Kings, away from his home in beautiful Los Angeles and the lineup of hot, aspiring actresses (and actors, quite often, although he kept that under wraps to keep up his image) who kept up an ever changing parade through his bedroom.

Sure, he was a little wild, but he wasn’t as bad as the papers made him out to be. And he hadn’t slammed that guy into the boards hard enough to break his arm _on purpose._

In his second year in the NHL, he was pretty sure his reputation as a troublemaker was totally undeserved. 

But the Kings’ coach had disagreed. And he’d gone from being the L.A. Kings’ first round draft pick at 18, to being traded like a used car at 21 to the Boston Bruins. 

And frankly, Boston was a boring team in a boring town. 

They practiced too much, partied too little, and the team captain, Marcus “The Danser” Danse, had a hockey stick jammed so far up his ass that Arthur was pretty sure he couldn’t bend at the waist to tie his own skates. 

So instead of living it up on his first free night since getting unceremoniously and abruptly traded, he was stuck in his brand new, nearly empty apartment with no TV, a cracked laptop, and nobody to suck his dick.

And he could really use a blowjob right now. 

At least when he had been in the hotel, it had had pay-per-view porn.

He glanced at his phone. All was not lost. 

He grabbed the device and slouched on the couch. When he unlocked his phone, he saw the Swipr app in the corner, and decided to check that first. Maybe there was some local ass who would appreciate his fine personality and dangerous good looks. 

His profile pic was of his chest down, with a hockey puck covering his junk. He didn’t like his face showing, since he had one of the most famous faces in hockey, and he didn’t want to be recognized on this hookup app. He rarely used it back home, having no problem finding plenty of people to fuck without resorting to a technological crutch.

He flicked through some faces for a bit, not finding anyone interesting. 

The problem was he was not really in the mood for pussy at the moment. He wanted dick, and he wasn’t quite ready for _that_ little vice to hit the papers. One unwilling trade was plenty, and he wasn’t quite ready to trust some random person on an app with that secret.

He sighed and closed the app. Phone porn. That was his only option. 

How low he’d sunk.

He opened his browser. It came up on the last site he was reading, a local hockey forum. 

There had been several updates since he had been reading it this morning, and one person in particular caught his eye. “Hockey_Guy_87” 

“Hockey Guy” had left several comments arguing in favour of the Maxson trade. Arthur lifted a brow. He liked this guy already, even if he would have personally rather stayed in L.A. He clicked his profile. It seemed most of his comments, however, were less in favour of Maxson himself, and more a loyal support of whatever decision the coaches made. 

He checked the guy’s profile picture. It was just the Bruins logo. Maxson smirked. A diehard fan. Figured. 

He was about to close the tab and search for something to wank off to, when he noticed the red dot by the guy’s picture, indicating he was online.

Arthur didn’t hesitate. He just clicked the pm and a chat opened. 

**Maxplaya:** maxsons gonna run that team in a month. Trading him was the worst decision la could have made. 

**Hockey_Guy_87:** LA’s loss is Boston’s gain?

**Maxplaya:** just wait and see

**Hockey_Guy_87:** I look forward to it. Maybe he can get his act together and learn to fly straight.

Arthur laughed. He wasn’t straight by any means, but he wasn’t about to share that little secret quite yet.

**Maxplaya:** maybe he will help loosen the team up. Then they can win a few games.

He hoped that might rile the other guy up a bit. He had been defending the team all night, but he wasn’t angry. Arthur wondered if he was always this calm. 

**Hockey_Guy_87:** They weren’t exactly on a losing streak before the trade, bud. 

**Hockey_Guy_87:** I just feel that the coaches should get support from their fans. They made a decision to add new blood to the team. I am sure they see Maxson’s potential.

Arthur laughed. Yeah right. 

**Maxplaya:** You love maxson or you just love sucking the coaches dick?

Arthur waited a minute, and was about to close the tab again when he saw the dots indicating the other person was typing. He waited. He looked forward to getting told to fuck off. A moment later, the words appeared.

**Hockey_Guy_87:** I bet you’d like to see that. 

Arthur raised an eyebrow. That was an interesting development. He decided to press the issue.

**Maxplaya:** Why? Are you any good?

That was bound to get him blocked, for sure.

**Hockey_Guy_87:** Never had any complaints yet.

Woah. 

**Maxplaya:** yah don’t really wanna see some flabby ass armchair coach suck dick thanks. 

**Hockey_Guy_87:** I’m not flabby. I work out. 

Touched a nerve there, maybe?

**Maxplaya:** right. Whatever

**Hockey_Guy_87:** Like I said, never had any complaints. 

**Hockey_Guy_87:** I don’t know why I’m defending my cocksucking skills to some random “armchair coach” on a hockey forum anyway. 

**Maxplaya:** Hey! I work out too! 

**Hockey_Guy_87:** Yeah, but how are you at sucking cock?

Arthur couldn’t help himself. He burst out laughing. He was starting to like this guy.

**Maxplaya:** never had any complaints either.

**Hockey_Guy_87:** Good for you. 

**Hockey_Guy_87:** I gotta go. Got an early morning. We should chat again soon.

**Maxplaya:** for sure bro

Arthur tossed his phone aside, porn forgotten. He may not have rubbed one out but he might have found a new friend. One who seemed to like hockey _and_ sucking dick. 

Maybe Boston was looking up.

***

Practices with the addition of the notoriously bad mannered Arthur Maxson went far worse than Danse had anticipated. As expected, Maxson was mouthy, spiteful, and a genuine pain in Danse’s ass. It had taken all of ten minutes for the right-winger to offend their goalies and piss off the rest of the team. 

Los Angeles was a young team with a lot of hot-blooded single players with short tempers, while Boston was older, one of the oldest in the league, and many of the players had families. So asking which _old fart _had an 18 year old daughter was the wrong comment to make. The joke might have been appropriate elsewhere, but Boston demanded respect that was never garnered in L.A. From there he was checking teammates into the boards, stealing pucks, and almost managed to almost use his stick to knock out Danse’s teeth.__

__At practice._ _

__As captain, Danse took it upon himself to pull the team together, be the source of camaraderie and leadership on the ice that lead them to a 28-10-2 season so far. He was going to have to figure out how to sort out the rogue eventually, but right now all he could think of was shoving his stick in Maxson’s mouth to keep him quiet._ _

__The idle thought reminded him of the sex tape some actress had released in hopes of getting a few grand out of Maxson’s pocket. Fuck, he was really shaping up to be a piece of work._ _

__Danse cursed under his breath._ _

__By the time practice had ended, the tension between the players and Maxson was charged like the air before a thunderstorm. The locker room was only marginally better as Maxson had enough of a head on him to keep quiet during the coach’s game plan._ _

__So Danse decided to take matters into his own hands. He drew himself up into his full captain’s stance._ _

__“Maxson. A word.”_ _

__For once, probably only by divine intervention, Maxson remained silent._ _

__“We have an important game tomorrow against Montreal and I need you to cooperate with your teammates. The attitude you showed tonight isn’t going to get us any goals tomorrow,” Danse crossed his arms against his chest, “And don’t think coach won’t bench you the second you slip up. You might have been the first round draft pick but you’ll have to earn that spot on the first line by the end of the month.”_ _

__Maxson mimicked his stance, crossing his arms and matching the Captain’s glare, “Seems you’re unimpressed with my on ice stickwork, Captain, do you want a more personal demonstration?”_ _

__He insinuated the meaning with a crude jerking motion._ _

__The frown on Danse’s face could have made anyone cry, but Arthur only howled with laughter._ _

__“Lighten up, budd, I score plenty, I get results,” he wanted nothing more than to wipe the smirk off his face, “No sweat.”_ _

__Danse was beginning to snap. Never, not in twelve years in the NHL, had Danse seen this sort of cockiness from a young player. Most were happy to learn, to gain the respect of veteran players and earn their place, but Maxson’s attitude problem should have him sent to the minors. Skill, which the right-wing forward had in spades, kept him safe._ _

__“Wipe that smirk off your face,” Danse demanded, “We all need to work together or the outliers get the boot, regardless of skill. If you don’t smarten up by the end of the month, Arthur, I’ll have coach send you to the minors for a serious attitude adjustment. Do you understand?”_ _

__The threat didn’t quite wipe the smirk from his teammate’s face. Danse could only hope in good time that Arthur would make an effort to become a Bruin._ _

__“Understood?”_ _

__“Yeah, yeah,” the new blood replied._ _

__It wasn’t until Danse set his duffle bag on his hallway bench that he was able to relax. Maxson was making his days stressful; his teammates were complaining, the coaches were breathing down his neck, and he seemed to have his own opinion on everything._ _

__He needed a drink._ _

__And maybe a fuck._ _

__But to start, he fired up his laptop to browse the local hockey forum and just found more of the same slack._ _

__**Captainpuck77:** Maxson is gonna sink this team._ _

__**therealbruinzz:** fucking boston gave up one of their best players for a prick they need to get their head out of their ass_ _

__Danse groaned. Tonight was not a good night to try and defend the apparently unredeemable. He was about to shut down the browser when he noticed the notification next to his chat._ _

__**Maxplaya:** how do you think the game tomorrow is going to go?_ _

__Danse contemplated the answer for longer than he liked._ _

__**Hockey_Guy_87:** They’ll lose. Maxson isn’t ready. Team’s not ready._ _

__Betting against his own team was a new low, but it was true. The line didn’t pull together, the team was disrupted, and Montreal was having a good run. It would take a miracle for the team to pull off a win._ _

__**Maxplaya:** youre wrong. _ _

__**Hockey_Guy_87:** No. I’m aware that the short amount of time means the team hasn’t adjusted yet. _ _

__**Maxplaya:** i still think youre wrong_ _

__Danse frowned. He wasn’t in the mood to argue tonight. He contemplated closing the window before he smiled at himself._ _

__**Hockey_Guy_87:** I still think you’re terrible at sucking cock._ _

__**Maxplaya:** only when its as tiny as yours and i need an adapter._ _

__Danse couldn't help but laugh. He wasn't one to brag yet he remembered more than one individual had complimented his girth._ _

__**Hockey_Guy_87:** I bet you would love a pic. _ _

__**Maxplaya:** will i need a magnifying glass? _ _

__Danse huffed out a laugh. He was starting to like this guy’s attitude. He was mouthy but there was a strange appeal to his taunting._ _

__**Hockey_Guy_87:** Just because you need one to find your own doesn’t mean I need one too._ _

__**Maxplaya:** you know less about dicks than you do about hockey._ _

__**Hockey_Guy_87:** I bet you’re just dying to know._ _

__Danse scratched pensively at his chin._ _

__**Hockey_Guy_87:** Tell you what, if the Bruins win tomorrow, I’ll send you a picture._ _

__**Maxplaya:** i’ll be watching eagerly. I’ll hold you to it._ _

__He leaned back in his chair and smiled at the screen._ _

__**Maxplaya:** I think the team needs to loosen up though_ _

__**Hockey_Guy_87:** Maxson needs to learn to work with his team and stop being a rogue. _ _

__**Hockey_Guy_87:** What do I get if they lose?_ _

__**Maxplaya:** I’ll send you a picture. I hope you have a big screen._ _

__**Hockey_Guy_87:** Looking forward to seeing your “stick”._ _

__A significant part of Danse wanted to win, not so he could send some random guy or dude a shot of his cock -and prove him wrong- but because he wanted his team to pull together. He would have to wait and see how the next day would play out on and off the ice._ _

__***_ _

__The team traveled to Montreal the next day without incident. The trip was quiet, as the coach had them watching replays on their tablets the whole way, which left little room for interaction. By the time they got to the arena, Arthur had energy to burn and was looking forward to warm up._ _

__The first real issue came up when they were shooting on the net, warming up the goalie. Arthur hit a pretty sweet slapshot which almost knocked the guy off his feet. The Danser slid up behind him. “Bit rough for a warm up. You need to chill.”_ _

__Arthur gritted his teeth. For some reason Danse had some kind of bug up his ass about him. The whole team was a little uptight but Danse brought it to new levels. He glanced at the crowd and resisted the urge to hook him as he passed._ _

__It set his mood off for the first two periods, though. The other team’s defence stopped him again and again, and Danse’s knowing smirk just made it worse, and he grew sloppy. He was irritable too._ _

__He finally had a decent run at the goal, late in the second period, and he took it, tearing up the ice as fast as he could. He didn’t see the Montreal defenceman on his left until the hit took him off his feet. He was up again in an instant, his stick broken in two. The other defenseman swooped in, stealing the puck, and passed it to the Montreal forward, who got the first goal of the game._ _

__Arthur snapped, shoving the defenseman who had hit him, and knocking him down. He was about to jump on him and pummel him when the ref stepped in and broke it up, sending Arthur to the penalty box._ _

__Arthur stewed. Who he really wanted to hit was Danse, the fucker!. He’s the one who put him in this mood to start with. He took a drink and sat down, stewing for the first two minutes of his five minute penalty after which the period ended anyway with._ _

__The period ended with three minutes left in his penalty, and a score of 1-0 for Montreal. Coach tore him a new one on the break, and Arthur had to admit he kind of deserved it._ _

__When the game resumed, he sat in the penalty box, a little calmer, and waited for the power play to end. He kept his eyes on Danse the whole time._ _

__It was obvious why they called him “The Danser.” Despite being the biggest guy on the team, Danse was fast and light on his feet, evading the other team’s defense and slipping past them with grace and agility. Arthur watched him with begrudging respect and a slightly awkward twinge of attraction, which he quickly tamped down. He had never allowed himself to feel that way towards his teammates in the past and he wasn’t about to start now._ _

__The other team members worked well with Danse, and the puck was passed back and forth frequently. They didn’t manage a goal, but they managed to avoid giving another one up during the power play._ _

__Finally, the penalty ended, and Arthur found himself back on the ice, somewhat chastened. He played for another couple of minutes, then found himself on the bench, alongside Danse, when Boston finally scored one on the Habs, tying the game. They both jumped up to cheer, but Arthur pointedly avoided looking at Danse because he could tell the other man was still pissed at him._ _

__The last seconds of the game were intense, ending in a tie. Arthur could almost feel the waves of irritation coming off Danse. He may have been in a bad mood earlier, but his teammate’s ire was perversely cheering Maxson up_ _

__It got even better when the coach told him to go in for the shootout. Not only was he glad to have the chance to redeem himself, but he had to admit it gave him a little thrill when Danse tried to protest and Coach shut him down._ _

__Nobody could beat Maxson in a shootout, and when Arthur scored the winning goal, it was just too much for Danse to take. He caught up with him in the locker room, slamming him against a locker with a crash, his arm across Arthur’s chest._ _

__“You almost lost us the game, Maxson.”_ _

__Arthur smirked. “I won the game, jackass.”_ _

__Danse glowered at him, and Arthur just grinned, taking in the sweat beading on the other man’s face, his angry brown eyes, and the musky smell drifting off him. Danse was about to say something when the coach came in and interrupted their one-on-one time by sending them to opposite ends of the room. Too bad. Arthur was just starting to enjoy himself._ _

__“Reporters are coming in here in a minute. Don’t act like a bunch of cocky teenagers. This is the NHL, not some bush league.”_ _

__Arthur pointedly turned his back to Danse and began stripping off his gear, only half-listening while the coach started going on about unity and teamwork in what was obviously a speech geared towards the tv cameras and reporters parading through the locker room._ _

__When he finally escaped, he waded through the puck bunnies waiting by the exit. He wasn’t in the mood for some easy lay tonight. He was eager to get back to his room and check his messages. A certain someone had agreed to send him a certain picture, and he was a little bit impatient to see what was in store for him._ _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is nsfw. To be honest this whole fic will pretty much be nsfw, so if you want to dodge smut in this, you are gonna have a pretty difficult read. -Tess.

Arthur avoided checking his phone until he got into the privacy of his room. Partly it was because it seemed like Danse was following him the entire fucking time back. As it happened, he had the room next door, and Danse scowled at him one final time before unlocking his own door and vanishing inside. 

As soon as Arthur was in, he grabbed his phone and checked the forum app. No new messages. He figured he should take the initiative. 

**Maxplaya:** time to pay up, dude

 **Maxplaya:** Maxson NAILED IT

He waited a minute. Maybe the guy was at a bar or something. He was about to give up and turn on the tv when his phone pinged. 

**Hockey_Guy_87:** It was a fluke. It doesn’t count.

Arthur laughed, then typed a reply. 

**Maxplaya:** bull shit. A win is a win. You didn’t specify earlier. Or are you too ashamed of your little prick?

 **Hockey_Guy_87:** Fine, on one condition. I’ll send one but next game, same bet but if they lose in reg I want to see you chest to thighs.

Hockey Guy was in for a treat, but they weren’t going to lose the next game. 

**Maxplaya:** lol deal. Now pay up

 **Hockey_Guy_87:** *image attached* Enjoy your winnings

Arthur’s eyes widened when he opened the photo. The picture was a close up of a pretty decent cock. It was soft, but good sized for sure, uncut, and resting in a nest of dark hair. What little he could see of the guy’s thighs and belly indicated that he did, indeed, work out. His hand was resting next to his dick, and it was big and strong looking, with a light dusting of hair on the knuckles and clean, square nails. There was a small cut on his right middle finger and he could see the edge of what looked like a hockey stick tattoo.

He looked like the kind of guy who kept his hands clean, but wasn’t afraid to get them dirty when necessary. The kind of hands Arthur wouldn’t mind feeling on his own cock, which responded eagerly to the image that popped into his head. 

He ignored his semi, and replied to Hockey Guy.

 **Maxplaya:** niiiice. I admit when i am wrong. I don’t need a microscope after all. 

**Maxplaya:** you have nice hands too

 **Hockey_Guy_87:** Maybe you'll get to see more. If Maxson pulls his head out of his ass.

Arthur scowled. Why did he have to bring… himself into this conversation?

 **Maxplaya:** whats your deal with that guy anyway. He has a lot of energy but he was a huge part of the kings making it to the playoffs last year. Like i said they made a mistake getting rid of him. Bostons only gonna be better with him and he did win the game for the bruins tonight

 **Hockey_Guy_87:** Don’t get me wrong, trading him was L.A.’s mistake and our gain but Boston was well on their way to the playoffs before he came along. I just hope he doesn't pull the team apart. 

**Hockey_Guy_87:** He’s young and talented and once his ego is curbed he will be a star and everything else will fall into place.

His ego? _His ego??_

 **Maxplaya:** he deserves his ego

 **Hockey_Guy_87:** He acts like he can carry the whole team and completely disregards his teammates. He checked the danser into the boards to get the puck. His own teammate! He needs an attitude adjustment. Not to mention that fucking penalty almost lost us the game. 

**Maxplaya:** danser needs to get the stick out of his ass.

 **Maxplaya:** bottom line though they won. They won and i won. And even if youre wrong about the team, you do have a nice cock. I’ll give you that. 

**Hockey_Guy_87:** Yeah, well, I can’t wait to see your cock after the next game.

 **Maxplaya:** it’s not gonna happen. But believe me it’s pretty hard already. I can’t stop scrolling up to see yours. You sure that’s you, you didn’t just swipe it off the internet?

 **Hockey_Guy_87:** Guess you’ll never know. Mark my words, they’re going to lose.

Hockey_Guy_87 has logged off.

 **Maxplaya:** hello?

 **Maxplaya:** hello?

 **Maxplaya:** was it something i said? Lol catch ya later bro. 

Arthur grinned. Despite the guy’s attitude about losing a bet, their team had still won the game, and it was still because of him, never mind this guy’s - and Danse’s - opinion on the subject. 

And now he had his reward. He stared at the picture a few minutes longer, and then headed into the shower.

***

The angry taps on his phone’s screen were audible in the near quiet of his room as he rage quit his app. Normally after games he was all too eager to shower and flop into bed and think of gorgeous men and happy endings. 

Between Maxplaya, Arthur Maxson, and what seemed like the whole damn fanbase, he was simply too agitated to relax. What did he have to do to get the newest team member to see his attitude was antagonizing not only him but the whole team? 

The pain in his shoulder reminded him of the hit Maxson had placed on him, aggravating an old injury. Hopefully the hot water and a decent night’s sleep would solve the matter. He would hate to have to sit out a game now. Maxson would eat him alive, likely taunt him endlessly. He reminded himself that was tomorrow’s problem.

Tonight, Danse was simply frustrated, beyond frustrated, and was more focused on jumping into the shower then thinking of anything else. He was eager to try and ease the tension that felt like it was tightly binding his whole body. This was all Arthur Maxson’s fault, with his big mouth and constant running commentary. He wanted nothing more then to shove something between those perfect lips of his, grab his hair and make him suck his…

Dammit, where had that thought come from? This was his teammate, not someone he could have a fling with. From what he had seen so far, Maxson was better looking than most players, and the long scar on the left side of his face gave him an edge. Along with his long, thick body…

One arm was braced against the wall, his head pressed to his forearm, while the other was slowly working the length between his legs, trying desperately to think about Maxplaya possibly jerking it to the picture he sent. Sooner or later he was bound to get one back.

Was Maxplaya tall, short, brown or blonde hair, maybe just some average joe with a good sense of humor? Maybe he had a tapered waist and nice ass, or a pair of long legs that would wrap around Danse’s waist as he fucked him against the wall. Would he moan? Yes, Danse decided, he would. He would beg Danse for more, to give him what he wanted. 

That telltale coil of heat around the base of his spine as he imagined those very thighs around his head made him moan. It had been too long since he was with someone and the pressure, the need, was mounting to an almost unbearable level. 

His breathing picked up as he began stroking himself in earnest before his thumb found and circled his cockhead. The next image his imagination conjured up was a hard body pressed against his, one strong hand cupping his sack while the other stroked his shaft. He could feel his climax approaching like a defenceman at full speed after the puck and he tried to think of something else to slow his pace.

Instead, Danse’s pace became fevered as the image of Maxson - not some random stranger with a blank face - pressed against the lockers returned. His face red from exertion, piercing blue eyes, the way his chest heaved, mouth open, waiting, wanting. He bit his lip to try and push the image away but now it was Arthur who was biting him and his hands stroking Danse’s stick.

Again, the image morphed, and it was Maxson’s legs wrapped around his waist, Maxson barking at him to fuck him harder, asking him if he’s too old to give him what he wants. 

“You fucking want harder…” he growled, and with a grunt and a few erratic pumps his cum left him in thick ropes that painted the shower tiles.

***

Meanwhile, less than a foot away, with only two layers of tile and a few inches of wall separating them, Arthur was thinking of Hockey Guy’s picture. He couldn’t believe that he’d actually sent it. 

At first he had thought the guy was just a blowhard, but he was pretty sure by this point, he was actually interested. Nobody sent a picture of their cock to a guy unless they wanted a little back. 

He flexed his muscles, imagining that big hand he’d seen in the photo running down his spine to his ass, caressing the crease of him before sliding around to his cock. Such gorgeous hands. Arthur liked them almost more than his cock.

His hand moved to his cock, picturing those big fingers wrapped around him, one hand on his dick, one slipping between his legs. He moved his feet a little farther apart, subconsciously accommodating Hockey Guy as he stepped closer, pressing that gorgeous cock to his ass. 

He wondered what the rest of him looked like. Did he have thick, dark hair like that scrap of hair he’d seen in the photo? With dark, scowling brown eyes to match?

He stroked faster, pressing his forehead to the tiles. Would he be rough? Would he be a little angry? Mad he’d lost the bet? Would he turn him around, slam him up against the wall like Danse had earlier? Fuck yeah he would. Danse would smash him into the wall and bite at his lips, lifting Arthur’s legs up to wrap around him as he thrust harder, faster.

Arthur opened his eyes suddenly. When had this become about Danse? He squeezed his cock but it was too late, he was coming, coming hard, and he swore he could hear Danse’s voice vibrate through the wall as he came, asking him if he wanted it harder.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rivalry continues.

The next morning arrived sooner than Danse prefered. He had set his alarm clock early to sneak a run in before the team left for Toronto. It was a balmy -16C which immediately cut out his desire for a jog through the city so instead he made his way to the hotel gym. 

At least his shoulder had improved.

He wasn’t surprised to see a few of his teammates had the same idea, some running, some pumping iron. What did surprise him was to see Arthur Maxson occupying the closest treadmill to the wall. His cock twitched at the false memory from his shower the night before. Danse took a deep breath and set his sights on the only remaining treadmill located next to Maxson. He took a quick glance at Arthur’s settings and set the difficult to one level higher.

It felt good to run, to work out some of the tension that had begun to build in his muscles. There was also a strange camaraderie running quietly next to Maxson, which vanished like the puck into a sieve goalie’s net, when the younger man pushed a few buttons and increased the speed of his mill.

Danse gave Maxson a minute before he did the same and picked up the pace. His breathing was starting to pick up when he caught Arthur raising the stakes by upping his speed once more, and Danse once again matched his pace. 

He caught himself glaring at the cocky hothead’s reflection in the mirrored wall of the gym, and the bastard was glaring right back at him. The casual jog had suddenly become a last man standing match to see who’s endurance would win out. Neither were flat out running but the pace was quick enough that he doubted he would last a full hour.

Ten minutes turned to twenty, than thirty, and forty. Danse could feel the sweat running down every inch of him, his chest heaved with every breath. Maxson wasn’t faring much better, equally red faced and panting which certainly wasn’t helping considering the release he achieved last night.

But he couldn’t let Maxson win, not now, not when so much hung in the balance. His ego demanded he win.

Danse found his second wind at the hour mark and continued to stare down his competitor who seemed to be faltering, his steps becoming clumsy and his eyes were pressed closed. Danse knew he was going to win, he just had to…

“Hey guys, bus leaves in thirty minutes,” the coach called, “You planning on running to Toronto?”

And just like that it was over, both men setting their machines to cool down mode. One quick glance over at Arthur said enough, he lost simply due to the fact that neither of them had given up.

He was pretty sure he overdid it too because his knees felt like jelly.

***

Arthur showered and packed quickly, fuming. He was beyond irritated that his older teammate had tried to show him up like that. As if he’d let some used up old player outlast him. 

Only, he nearly had. Arthur had been about two seconds away from giving up, and the coach coming in was the only thing that had saved him.

He grabbed his bag and headed down to the shuttle, grabbing breakfast and coffee on the way by. 

He was washing his bagel down with coffee and stuffing his bag under his seat when his phone buzzed.

 **Hockey_Guy_87:** I hope you prepared yourself for tomorrow night. Can’t wait to see what you have to offer.

Arthur smiled. He was glad that Hockey Guy had come back. He had been worried that he’d gone too far. He held his paper cup with his teeth so he could type on his phone. 

**Maxplaya:** enough to shut you up at least. 

**Hockey_Guy_87:** You got lucky last time.

 **Maxplaya:** maybe a little. I will admit you gave me good material for the spank bank

 **Maxplaya:** youre gonna have to send another one if they win tomorrow. Maybe a little harder this time.

 **Hockey_Guy_87:** Keep dreaming, pal.

 **Maxplaya:** well they are gonna win so thats no dream. But i am definitely gonna need more of that. Although maybe not right now i am in public 

**Hockey_Guy_87:** Sounds like you like what you see. Lucky for you I’m not planning on continuing to bet against my favorite team.

 **Maxplaya:** yeah i like what i see. I thought i made that pretty clear. But we both know youre not betting against the team. Youre betting against maxson. So how about this. Maxson scores tomorrow. You show me something worth jacking off to. No goal, i give you what you want. And I know you want it.

 **Hockey_Guy_87:** That’s a tempting offer. Sounds like a double win if he doesn’t score AND they lose. What will you do then?

Arthur was uncomfortably aware that the conversation was inappropriately arousing for a shuttle bus full of his new teammates. Who were all getting up, because they had arrived at the airport. He surreptitiously adjusted his dick and grabbed his bag, grateful for the reprieve.

By the time he was settled in his seat on the plane and connected to the inflight wifi, almost an hour had passed. 

**Maxplaya:** sorry i vanished. a work thing.

 **Hockey_Guy_87:** it’s okay, something came up on my end too. 

**Maxplaya:** anyway. How about an ass shot?

 **Hockey_Guy_87:** Alright. If Boston loses I get a dick pick, and if Maxson doesn’t score, I get an ass shot AND a dick pic. But if Maxson scores or they win, I’ll send you my hardon. Give you something to tide you over. 

**Maxplaya:** hey youre not like a politician or a teenager or something are you? Trying to catfish me?

 **Hockey_Guy_87:** No. Are you? 

**Maxplaya:** i am legal. Single. 25 and gainfully employed

Arthur said he was a little older than he was, worried the guy would dump him if he thought he was some kid.

 **Hockey_Guy_87:** Same, legal, single, employed. 28. I live in Boston. 

Arthur had guessed he was older, and was glad Hockey Guy wasn’t over thirty.

 **Maxplaya:** same. Born and raised? I just moved here from the west coast for work

 **Hockey_Guy_87:** I was born here but my family raised me in Washington. Have always been a Bruins fan. Moved back to Boston about a decade ago. 

**Maxplaya:** washington has a decent team too. 

**Hockey_Guy_87:** Better than Montreal.

 **Maxplay:** lol true, bro.

The flight to Toronto was short. They chatted about hockey for a few more minutes, then when it was time to land, Arthur said he had to get back to work. Hockey Guy said he had to go too, anyway, and would catch him later. 

He didn’t have a chance to check his messages again that night, and his phone was dead by the time he got to his hotel. The next morning he had gym and a team meeting before practice. He was too busy to check his phone, but he didn’t stop thinking about Hockey Guy all day, wondering what he was doing. It was fun to talk about hockey with someone who didn’t have all the NHL expectations of him, and the fact that the guy was hot and into men didn’t hurt either. 

***

There was a practice the next day before the game, and Arthur was lacing his skates when coach came into the locker room. 

“All right boys. I know it’s only been a few weeks with this new lineup, and I know there is an adjustment period, but it doesn’t help when you can’t get along. Maxson.”

“Yeah, coach?” Arthur replied.

“It’s come to my attention that you have been making some rude and unacceptable comments to the other players. A little trash talk is fine when it’s friendly banter. But when you haven’t built the rapport with your teammates yet, and you bring up their family members, it crosses a line. This isn’t California. Nip it in the bud. You’re creating animosity among the team and it’s gonna bring us all down.”

Arthur gritted his teeth, but nodded. He glanced at Danse, who was watching him with a small smile twitching at the corner of his lips. Maxson went for a full on glare in return   
It was this guy’s fault anyway. It’s not like anyone had tripped over themselves to get to know him on this team and it was probably because they all worshipped the team captain like he was some kind of god.

Arthur thought back to Danse’s performance on the ice against the Habs. He had to admit, he had held the team together pretty well. Arthur had always kind of looked up to the Danser, back when he was still in the Juniors. He had been one of Arthur’s favourite players. Until he’d had to go up against him when he’d played for the Kings. 

And now that they were on the same team and he didn’t get the kind of respect he figured he’d earned, that admiration was pretty quickly being replaced by resentment. 

He crossed his arms over his chest and only half-listened to the rest of the coach’s speech, and was relieved to finally get out on the ice. It would feel good to slam Danse into the boards. 

Arthur was a bit of a tank. He shot hard and accurate, and took hits like a brick wall when he saw them coming. But he didn’t have the speed that Danse had. He was determined to give him a good hit during practice today, but the older man eluded him, and by the time they broke for a few hours of R&R before the game, he was feeling more than a little irritated. He headed to the showers, walking with unseeing eyes past the other men, only to find his nemesis was already there , standing with his back to the door.

He fought to keep his eyes off the other man, but he couldn’t help but notice his broad back, lean waist, and thick, muscled thighs. After how his mind had wandered the night before to places it shouldn’t have, the sight was unwelcome to Arthur. He finished up quickly and got dressed, ignoring Danse the entire time, and was about to leave to go find some food when the coach caught up to them.

“Danse. Maxson. A word.”

Arthur stopped and waited. 

“I’ve been coaching for almost twenty years, and I have eyes. I know where the tension in this team is coming from. The two of you are not getting along and it’s affecting everyone. Danse, as captain, it’s your job to welcome Maxson to this team. The rest of the team follows your lead. Maxson, every team has its own culture and history, and it’s your job to find your place in it. You need to stop thinking of yourself and think of the whole organization. Now, what I want you two to do right now, is go together, have a nice supper, and find some common ground. We meet back here at 57:30 for the game. I want to see an improvement in your relationship by then, or when we get back to Boston you’re going to be practicing one on one for a few weeks until you hash this out.”

***  
Having dinner with Maxson felt like the cruelest of jokes, but Danse knew coach was serious...and right.

Neither was unfamiliar with the city and the two bickered over where to eat before Danse gave in and let Arthur choose a restaurant downtown. They parted briefly to change before meeting in the lobby and catching a cab. 

The cabbie prattled on while Danse and Maxson sat in uncomfortable silence, both occasionally checking their phones. 

**Hockey_Guy_87:** Aside from hockey and cock, what else do you like? 

**Maxplaya:** besides fucking?

Danse chuckled which drew an irritated glare from Maxson. 

**Maxplaya:** lol actually i like fishing. In summer. I have a lot of downtime in the summer. 

Danse was really starting to like Maxplaya and was tempted to call off the bet and just give him more of what he wanted. The thought made him adjust himself before getting out of the cab.

 **Maxplaya:** how about you. Outdoorsy or are you more of an indoor cocksucker?

 **Hockey_Guy_87:** Ha, Im an outdoorsman myself. Fishing, hiking, cycling. There’s this great lake north of Boston and a couple people I know own a charter to catch fish in the Atlantic. 

Dinner was just as awkward, Danse more focused on getting to know Maxplaya than Arthur, who seemed to be just as engrossed in his phone. Probably bitching to his old teammates about him, or Boston, or who knows. Danse didn’t care, this wasn’t his problem.

 **Hockey_Guy_87:** I could make some recommendations to you.

Danse had rules in place. No dating, no relationships, no commitments outside hockey and family. The rules were to keep him from getting compromised...or hurt. He seldom thought of Luke anymore.

He only messed around with a few in the past decade and had never really met anyone online before. Danse wasn’t sure how to proceed, not to mention if he ever decided to meet the guy in real life it might be awkward. Honestly but cautiously, he decided, was they way to go.

Danse put his phone down when the waitress came to take their order, he realized he hadn’t even looked at the menu. 

“I’ll have whatever he’s having,” Danse mumbled as he quickly skimmed the menu, and was relieved when Maxson ordered ahi tuna and salad.

As soon as she left, he picked up his phone again. 

**Maxplaya:** deep sea fishing is great! I caught a 160lb yellowfin last summer. It was sweet.

He hummed at the strange coincidence. 

**Hockey_Guy_87:** I caught enough bass last summer to fill up my freezer. 

**Maxplaya:** well i guess there are worse places i could have moved.

Danse imagined himself at his cottage just south of the New Hampshire border, sitting on his dock having a beer with a faceless stranger. The thought made him feel weird. Lonely. 

He really should be getting to know his teammate and linesman better if he wanted his team to start winning. This dinner wasn’t just for him and Maxson, it was for the whole organization.

“So, uh, what do you think of Boston, the city, so far?” Danse asked, uncharacteristically nervous for a moment, “Colder than Los Angeles I imagine.”

His phone chimed just as he was about to close the app.

 **Maxplaya:** listen i have to run im at a business dinner. I will catch you after the game. And i look forward to seeing my next prize

 **Hockey_Guy_87:** Yeah I’m about to head into a meeting too. Catch you later.

Maxson looked at his phone one last time before he stuffed it in his pocket and took a sip of water.

“Yeah, I guess it’s alright,” his teammate replied nonchalantly.

His eyes were following something behind Danse’s head instead of looking him in the eyes. Danse pursed his lips. This was the ongoing Arthur Maxson dilemma, he could offer him the olive branch but all the younger man did was bat it away. His contract was for three years!

“Arthur,” he said sternly, “I know we got off on the wrong foot but you need to work with me if you are going to become a productive member of this team.”

“I have to?” Arthur rebutted, “What about you? I’m not the only one with an attitude problem here, _Danser_. Pretty sure coach was talking to both of us, not just me.”

How in the hell was he supposed to get through to this young punk when any attempt Danse made to include him was met with attitude and resistance.

He was about to retort when the waitress returned with their dinners. Maxson picked up his fork and shoveled some food into his mouth which effectively ended the conversation for the time being. So once more, they sat uncomfortably together and begrudgingly ate. 

Danse tried not to shoot him dirty looks throughout their meal but he just couldn’t help himself and by the end of dinner Maxson was visibly agitated.

“What the hell is your problem with me? It’s not like I personally shoved the stick up your ass.”

Danse wanted to verbally lash out but they were in public and the last thing Boston needed was negative press. After the day they were having, he wasn’t sure Maxson would ever understand where he was coming from. 

Maxson may not know this, but he had what Boston needed, he was young, talented, and eager to prove himself. 

And Danse….

Danse was pushing 31 years when most players were lucky to play past 30. He used strict training and hard work to stay where he was. 

If there was someone who could push him out of his position on the team and take the lead as captain, it was Maxson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the irregular updates, everyone. We both had a lot of things going on lately and haven't had a chance to work on this much.... including meeting in real life for the first time! (We could have worked on it then I suppose, but instead we just guzzled wine and laughed for hours and didn't sleep. It was fabulous.) 
> 
> I'm so glad I get to write this with my friend. Love you, Ava!
> 
> -Tess.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with us through our erratic updates! We hope you enjoy the next chapter ~Ava
> 
> This chapter is very NSFW.

_"What an annoying, self-righteous ass,"_ Arthur thought to himself as he dressed for the game later that evening.

Arthur remembered his first season in the NHL. He’d always followed a number of his favourite players, and he’d been excited to meet all of them. But when he’d met “The Danser”, the other man had brushed him off when he had tried to talk to him after the game. Most other seasoned players, even ones from other teams, had been friendly to the rookies, welcoming them to the league. But Danse had barely even looked at him.

He wasn’t sure why, but instead of thinking about it, he’d taken it personally, making sure to get in some extra hits on the other player every time the Kings had played the Bruins.

He supposed, somewhere in the back of his mind, he had hoped that Danse would come to appreciate him once they were on the same team. Unfortunately, whatever Danse had had against him when they first met hadn’t changed, and Arthur was pretty sure they would never see eye to eye.

He wasn’t as irritated as he’d been during the Montreal game, but he was distracted. His mind kept flip-flopping between the pointless dinner with Danse, and the much more entertaining and easy rapport he had with Hockey Guy.

His first period was frustrating. The Leafs scored twice in a row, and during the intermission, the coach yelled at them for sleeping on the ice. As far as Arthur was concerned, he was the only one asleep tonight, so he redoubled his efforts in the second period, managing to score on Toronto’s net. He sat down when he was benched and took a drink, hoping Hockey Guy was watching. He glanced up at the cameras and smiled, before remembering he was just supposed to be another fan.

He happened to catch Danse’s eye and the way he was scowling at him brought his mood back down again.

There were no other goals scored by the Bruins that night, and the game was lost 3-1. Arthur was annoyed at the loss, but at least he’d scored a goal. Besides, he was looking forward to getting to his room and his reward. Ignoring Danse’s snarky looks, he brushed past him without a word.

* * *

 

Danse diligently gave his postgame team talk, trying to avoid Maxson’s eyes the entire time. He had been the only player to score a goal and the rest of the team played a sloppy game. As captain, he was responsible for pulling everyone together and he had failed.

Despite how the night had gone, he was excited and rushed through his postgame duties to get back to the hotel room.

He was half hard by the time he locked his door and slumped on the bed, phone in hand.

 **Hockey_Guy_87:** Well, well. Looks like we both won. Maxson scored a goal but they lost the game.

Within seconds he had a reply. Looked like Maxplaya had been watching the game.

 **Maxplaya:** so you get chest down and i get an ass shot?

 **Hockey_Guy_87:** As long as you’re still comfortable doing so.

Despite his own eagerness, he wanted to make sure he wasn’t pushing any boundaries. He felt his cock throb in anticipation.

 **Maxplaya:** Prepare to be amazed.

 **Maxplaya:** *image attached*

Danse’s breath caught in his throat when the image appeared. Maxplaya had been holding out on him. His body was thickly muscled and toned, with a fairly thick amount of coarse dark hair covering his chest that tapered towards his navel, over a stellar six-pack, and then widened again as it neared his waist. His thighs were thick and powerful looking and lightly dusted in hair too. And between those thighs was one of the best looking cocks Danse had ever seen. It was long and thick, curving slightly to the right and the sight of it made heat pool in his gut.

He bit his lip appreciatively as he typed out a reply.

 **Hockey_Guy_87:** I have to admit I am very impressed.

His dick was pressing uncomfortably against the seam of his pants, so he took a moment to toss his phone aside and free himself from his slacks and boxers. Danse remembered he needed to return the favor and went to the bathroom for better lighting. He posed in front of the mirror and snapped a pic of his ass before turning and taking another of his front. He hoped Maxplaya would like the surprise.

 **Hockey_Guy_87:** *image attached*

 **Hockey_Guy_87:** *image attached* Something extra.

As soon as the pictures were sent, he scrolled back up to ogle his reward, one hand stroking his hard length while the other held his phone.

 **Maxplaya:** fuck me…

The compliment made his body shudder as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. He briefly released the grip on his cock to spit into his hand before returning it and began pumping himself in earnest. As his knees began to weaken, he turned and leaned against the bathroom vanity and typed another reply.

 **Hockey_Guy_87:** Probably would if I could

 **Maxplaya:** lol thats not what i meant.

Danse’s hand stopped moving for a second.

 **Maxplaya:** well i guess yeah that is what i meant

He released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding onto.

 **Hockey_Guy_87:** Be nice to run my hands down your chest and maybe test the ice if you get my meaning?

 **Maxplaya:** im hard already.

 **Maxplaya:** which you can tell from the photo

Fuck, Maxplaya wasn’t the only one. He imagined his hand wrapped around both their cocks, stroking them in unison and the thought nearly tipped him over the edge.

 **Maxplaya:** im so horny but i have to admit ive never done anything like this before

 **Hockey_Guy_87:** neither have I and been a while since I was with anyone

Some voice in the back of Danse’s mind was screaming at him, reminding him of the shitstorm that could be unleashed if this ever hit the press, but he couldn’t deny how Maxplaya was making him feel. He didn’t have time for those thoughts. Right now he longed for validation and it was what this stranger was giving him.

 **Hockey_Guy_87:** What do you think?

 **Maxplaya:** have to say. I dont know why not. You are pretty hot. Your abs are amazing. Id run my mouth all the way down you before i suck you off. I like that i can see your hands. I can imagine how they would feel in my hair

His pace picked up as he read the latest set of comments; his thumb found his cockhead and smeared precum around his tip before he worked it with short, precise strokes.

 **Hockey_Guy_87:** You like my hands what else do you want them to do

 **Maxplaya:** id love to see them on my cock. And my ass. Im jacking off right now. Are you?

The idea that someone was getting off to him, to a picture of his body, turned his insides to liquid heat. At the pace he was going, he wasn’t going to last much longer, but he wanted more, he wanted to grind his cock against those thick thighs, feel someone else's skin against his. He wanted Maxplaya, wanted to fuck him hard.

 **Hockey_Guy_87:** Yeah fuck.

 **Hockey_Guy_87:** Imagine my hands on your cock, running them up and down your thighs. Please send me a picture of your ass.

He waited for what felt like an eternity before the telltale dots appeared again.

 **Maxplaya:** hjh

 **Maxplaya:** bbññmk

 **Maxplaya:** sorry i dropped my phone

 **Maxplaya:** *image attached*

Once more Danse was left awestruck by the image sent to him. The ass was perfectly round and tight with enough meat to knead with his hands. He barely had the semblance of mind to reply before he felt his orgasm coiling around his spine and threatening to spill forth.

 **Hockey_Guy_87:** thats a fucking beautiful ass want to grab it

 **Hockey_Guy_87:** id love to cum all over it

Danse’s seed left him in three thick spurts as his release slammed into him like a slapshot. His breathing was ragged but eventually tapered off as he came down from his euphoric high. He heard his phone chime and looked down.

 **Maxplaya:** *image attached*

Maxplaya had sent a picture of his hand and abs coated in his own cum. It was enough to elicit a throb from his already spent length and he idly wondered if Maxplaya was up for another round.

* * *

 

Arthur lay on his bed, panting heavily, scrolling back up through the short conversation. He’d just jerked off over text with some random stranger and it was one of the hottest things that he’d ever done. He closed his eyes for a moment until a vibration brought his attention back to his phone.

Hockey guy had sent him a similar photo, a picture of his big, delicious looking hand and arm, now splashed with cum, gripping the end of his dick tightly. It was even splattered on his tattoo, which was two crossed hockey sticks with two pucks underneath, one outlined and one filled in. He was still looking at it as waves of bliss threatened to pull him under when his phone buzzed again.

 **Hockey_Guy_87:** Damn, been a while. Hope you don't mind me keeping those pics for a bit. ;-)

Fuck. Fucking hell.

What the fuck was he doing? He’d just been traded due to a bunch of fucking scandals, and here he was sending nude photos to some random guy on the internet?

This was what was wrong. This was why his team had it in for him. Why Danse had it in for him.

He was such a fucking idiot.

He wiped his hand on the bedding then typed in a reply.

 **Maxplaya:** look i gotta go. I have an early morning.

He gritted his teeth for a moment, then logged out.

He took a deep breath before dragging himself off the bed and into the shower. It was a tough pill to swallow, but he was starting to realize he couldn’t have a relationship with this guy, as much as he liked him. As much as they seemed to have in common.

Hockey Guy was just a fan. That was all. And Arthur was better off focusing on making things right with his team instead of goofing off with some fanboy.

Even if that fanboy had the best body he’d seen outside of a locker room.

* * *

 

If Arthur thought Danse had been in a bad mood the day before, it was nothing compared to this morning.

While Arthur came down with a smile on his face, determined to put his best foot forward, Danse seemed to take the opposite approach, snapping at everyone he saw at breakfast, and continuing his surly attitude as they filed into the airport shuttle. It all came to a head when Arthur tried to brush by him on his way to a seat, bumping Danse’s bag and accidentally elbowing him in the shoulder.

“Sorry,” he muttered, but it wasn’t enough.

“I’ve had it about up to here with you, Maxson,” Danse stood up to his full height, a few inches taller than Arthur. “I’m fucking done with you.”

“Who pissed in your corn flakes, Danse? I’m just trying to get by, bro.”

Danse didn’t even reply. He just shoved Arthur, whose foot tangled up in the strap of Danse’s bag, and he fell over, landing on his ass in the aisle. He jumped to his feet and pushed Danse right back.

“Keep your fucking hands off me, grandpa!”

It was like Danse’s head had been dipped in paint, it turned red so fast. He hauled his arm back to punch Arthur but just then coach boarded the bus.

“Danse! Maxson! Enough!” he stalked down the aisle and grabbed Arthur by the collar. “You sit there,” he said, shoving him towards the front of the bus. “And you sit there.”

He directed Danse back into his original seat. “I’ve had it from both of you. Tomorrow you’re both practicing passing drills all afternoon. I don’t give a shit if it’s supposed to be a rest day after this road trip. You’re both to go to the arena for three hours tomorrow, and find a way to work together. This is your last chance. The next altercation between you two and I’m gonna make you sit out games.”

This was serious. They’d lost a day off, and there was no going back from this. He had to make it work with Danse. He had no choice.

**Author's Note:**

> Ava and I have been working on this for a while now. There is actually a whole lot more of it written, but it's still very much a work in progress. 
> 
> But we decided to throw this sample out into the world and see how it goes. Leave us a comment and let us know what you think!
> 
> Shoutout to Fancy and Syren for your input on what we have so far.


End file.
